Can't Smile Without You
by starfire341
Summary: It's been almost a year since England had last smiled. It had been almost a year since he'd laughed. It had been almost been a year since he'd been interested in living. It had been almost a year since America had died. Implied USUK. Slight Gerita, Spamamo, and others
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is my first Hetalia fanfic so if you have any suggestions on characters' personalities or anything else don't be afraid to tell me. I hope this doesn't blow up in my face….**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia… that's currently in the works.**

Chapter 1

"_Now some people say happiness takes so very long to find. Well, I'm finding it hard leaving your love behind me."_

_~ Barry Manilow, "Can't Smile Without You"_

It had been almosta year since England had last smiled. It had been almost a year since he'd laughed. It had been almost been a year since he'd been interested in living.

It had been almost a year since America had died.

The stupid git just had to be the damned hero until the end. He didn't have to do it alone. He knew that. We all knew that but still he insisted. It was part of the reason he loved him so much. He was stubborn and made things difficult.

He liked that.

"_Angleterre_, are you okay, _mon ami_," France asked England interrupting his reverie. "You've been oddly quiet. _Vous sentez-vous d'accord?_"

"I'm fine," he replied rather coldly. "I'm just a bit tired."

"_Angleterre_, don't play dumb with me. I know what day it is," France rebuffed. "_Angleterre_, you must move on. Your people need you. As much I hate saying this, we need you. _Amérique, voudrait que vous faites cela. Se il vous plaît. Essayez._"

He nodded absentmindedly in reply. His heart wasn't in moving on Alfred was special. There would be no moving on. He had told Alfred things he'd never said to anyone before. He had come about be gay to him. He'd confessed his feelings.

"Come, we have to hurry. We're going to be late the meeting," the Frenchman said attempting to lighten the mood. "Germany would never forgive us if we were late… again."

The pair made it down the hallway and into the conference room, which, by the time they got there was packed with nations. Normally, they would have been talking jovially and arguing good naturedly (most of the time). But today, they were quieter. They spoke in hushed whispers and gave England sympathetic looks.

He didn't want their sympathy. In fact sympathy made the situation worst. It made him feel like he was a kicked puppy or something. It made him feel weak.

He took a seat in spot nestled beside Canada and France. Those two understood. They had been there when he fell apart. They'd been there when America died.

"Hi Canada," England said to the quiet nation. "Are you okay?"

The only person who took this day harder than him it was Canada. America and Canada had been brothers. They had been together when he and France hadn't been there. They were family.

"I'm fine," the Canadian sniffed. He sounded like he had been crying. "If anyone should be asking how someone's doing it should be me asking you."

Canada offered him a small sad smile. His eyes however gravitated back to Germany who had begun the meeting.

Apparently they had all agreed to discuss America and his legacy later. They had all agreed that he'd want them to get down to business first.

He stared at England watching his mouth move spouting statics, facts, and strategies. But in all honesty he wasn't paying attention. If anyone noticed they probably didn't care or didn't want to mention it.

The island nation was so lost that he hadn't notice when Germany called on him.

"_Angleterre_, _Allemagne _wants to know the current outlook of the UK stock market," France said to him gently. He was obviously trying not to make him feel back for not paying attention.

"Umm… well."

It had truly seemed that England had lost all his eloquence and poise. He was drawing blanks and couldn't find any of his notes about this.

He looked up at the other nations and felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Maybe he should have taken Germany's offer for him to stay home and miss the first of a series of meetings in Munich.

"I don't know," he deadpanned.

For a moment, Germany sighed and gave him a sympathetic look.

"England, we were all hoping for-"

A soft knock came from the door interrupting Germany mid-sentence causing a ripple of mummers amongst the nations. Nothing interrupted Germany mid- speech, except maybe Italy, he was an exception. But even more startling was that no one ever knocked on their door during a meeting.

"Silence!" Germany commanded.

"Come in," he said.

From behind the door stepped a young man. The man had blonde hair his blue eyes hidden behind glasses his features complimented perfectly by a bright smile. He looked some much like America but it couldn't be could it?

"Sorry to bother you but I think one of you left these notes in the lobby," he explained. "Some guys at the front desk sent me to bring it."

He smiled brightly at them.

"Um… whose are these?"

England finally finding the voice to talk finally said, "Those are mine."

The man smiled and handed the notes over.

"Thank you Mr…."

"Jones. Alfred F. Jones."

**AN: Well I hoped you liked it. Updates will be slow because school is a pain in the arse. Reviews will speed up the process. (This is also unedited so please don't be too critical about grammar.)**

_Translations:_

_Angleterre- England_

_Allemange- Germany _

_Mon ami- My friend_

_Vous sentez-vous d'accord? - Are you feeling okay?_

_Amérique, voudrait que vous faites cela. Se il vous plaît. Essayez.-America would want you to do this. So please. Try. _


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Wow… thanks guys I'm so honored. I didn't expect so much feedback from this first chapter. So Alfred's back in the game, right? You'll have to wait and see! **

**At the end of chapter I have a couple headcanons that will be kind of important to the story… so yeah.**

Chapter 2

_"When you lose something you can't replace. When you love someone, but it goes to waste."_

_~ Coldplay, "Fix You"_

England's heart stopped. He could feel the floor being pulled beneath him as the Alfred utter his name. He sat himself slowly back in his chair Alfred's words echoing in his head.

_"Jones. Alfred F. Jones."_

He could feel the eyes of several nations on him as he put a hand to his temple. France put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. It was strange. France never did anything like that for him.

It was a nice strange situation.

"Um… is he okay?" Alfred asked awkwardly.

"He's fine," Canada said taking charge of the conversation. "He's just a bit under the weather."

"I hope he feels better," he said. "Well, I've got to go. Jensen, my partner's going to be pissed if I'm going to ditch. It was nice meeting you guys."

"Wait!" Matthew interjected suddenly. "I feel like I've seen you before. Have we met?"

Alfred thought for a moment his brow furrowing. America would look just like that whenever he was deep in thought. It didn't seem like America to think very hard but he was bright. He just didn't show it. He had told him once that people didn't expect good ideas from him.

"Probably not," Alfred replied. "But maybe you've seen my photo with a newspaper story."

"You're a journalist?" France asked sounding surprised.

"Yeah, Jensen and I are freelance journalists. We travel and pick up stories and we sell them to a number of newspapers."

This man couldn't possibly be America. He hated writing. He had also once admitted that he didn't have the patience for writing. Besides, America had always preferred reading better.

"That's neat," Canada said earnestly nodding his head. "Say, where are you from?"

"I'm from the United States. I don't really stay there though," Alfred replied. "The longest I've ever stayed in a place was a month. Jensen and I have been to over fifty countries together."

Germany cleared his throat trying to steer the meeting back of track.

"I would love to hear more about you and your stories but as you can we have a meeting to continue," Canada said giving Germany a pointed look.

Amer- no _Alfred _appeared thoughtful for a moment.

"If you want to speak with me some more or meet Jensen, we're staying at the Hotel Torbraeu a few blocks from here," Alfred offered with a small smile. "And if you want to talk sooner Jensen and I are going out to lunch at the café around the corner."

"I'll see you then," Canada replied firmly.

Alfred then left the room shutting the door behind him. Then all hell broke loose. There was a clamor of nations shouting and fighting to get their voice heard.

"I thought he was dead!"

"Was he just on a joyride this whole time?"

"That damn burger bastard's alive after all."

"SILENCE!" Germany shouted quieting the others. "This man could just be a journalist for all we know. We can't go jumping to conclusions. Imposing this on him would no good."

Nations went back to arguing until the sound had worked up to shouting.

"He looks so much like him," England whispered barely audible. "For a moment I thought…"

"_Oui, _I thought so too," France agreed.

Him and France agreeing on something? The world must be ending. He and Francis didn't agree on anything unless they were forced to. Besides, France was never so empathetic with him. If anything France mocked him.

"France, why are you doing this?" he asked the French curiously.

"_Que voulez-vous dire?_ England, I just want to help you," France replied not unkindly.

"But _why_? You're never this nice to me," England argued.

France smiled sadly.

"We've all had our losses in this world. I know that for a fact," France replied thoughtfully. "But no one should lose the one they thought we be there forever."

It was pity. No not just pity and sorrow. He had felt it too.

Jeanne. Oh, Jeanne.

"Francis," he whispered inaudibly watching as France met up with Spain and Prussia.

* * *

><p>Alfred Jones took a seat outside the Café Luitpold across from his partner, Jensen. His partner was scribbling something on a notepad muttering something as the writing increased. He studied the frustrated look on his partner's face, the brows creasing, muttering, and thought it best not to speak.<p>

When Jensen was on writing mood it was best not to interrupt unless you wanted to be attacked by a headstrong journalist and a pencil.

A waiter came to the table and placed a cup of coffee by Jensen.

"_Hier ist Ihr Tee_," the waiter said.

Jensen looked and put on a smile. He found that Jensen was good at doing this, acting all happy when the journalist was anything but.

"_Danke_," Jensen replied nodding curtly.

As the waiter left, Alfred couldn't help but smile. Jensen couldn't help but notice.

"What?" Jensen asked frowning.

"Nothing," Alfred replied. "It's just your so good at putting on a show. I know you're not really that happy right now."

"Well if I'm unhappy the least I can do is make someone else's day a bit easier," Jensen said briskly.

He tapped his finger against the table. His mind kept wandering to the diplomats at the United Nations meeting. They were different from other diplomats he'd observed before. But maybe that was good thing.

"So did you return the notes to diplomats?" Jensen asked casually taking a sip of coffee.

"Yeah," Alfred replied off-handedly.

He couldn't shake the thought of the diplomat of whom the notes belonged to. There was something about him, a sort of magic feeling to him. His blond hair and bushy eyebrows gave an odd look to him. But there was something there.

"Alfred, earth to Alfred," Jensen said waving a hand in front of his face.

"Hmmm? What?" he mumbled barely decipherable.

"Good Lord, Alfred you're all out of sorts today," Jensen said taking another sip of coffee. "I was going to ask if there were a lot of representatives."

"Yeah, there were," he replied. "A few are coming here later. They wanted to talk more with me. They seemed pretty interested in our work."

"Wow really?" Jensen asked in a somewhat awed tone.

"Yeah, one guy, from Canada I think, was really interested. He was pretty much insisting that we talk."

Jensen smiled. His partner always seemed to receive more pleasure from being recognized from their writing. Jensen seemed comfortable with it proud even. Alfred on the other hand was never good with being recognized. He would rather have been behind a computer or if he had to a notebook or piece of paper.

"Well, I hope they get here too soon," Jensen said with a small smile. "I have to go to the restroom. I'll be right back.

Jensen got up and stopped by Alfred kissing him on the cheek.

He could feel the heat rush to his face as she left. He had only recently started dating her and still felt awkward calling her his girlfriend.

But she was happy with him and he was happy with her.

That's all that mattered.

* * *

><p>England didn't really want to come to the café when Germany called for break knowing nothing would be accomplished. He would have rather stayed at the United Nations and mope.<p>

France and Canada had insisted on dragging him along to the Café Luitpold. They for some reason thought that proving that Alfred was America would make him feel better.

They were wrong however. He would have preferred America being reincarnated into a safer and normal life, a life where he didn't need to the hero.

So he found himself being dragged across the street by France's tight grip.

"Come on, _Angleterre_," France said as they approached the café. "I thought you'd be excited about this."

Canada nudged France gently giving him a look.

Canada understood his pain. What the Canadian also understood was that man was like his brother and he needed closure.

England kept this wound open. He constantly picked at until telling what was a memory of America and what was simply a hallucination caused out of grief.

He could see Alfred sitting at a table across from a girl. A girl.

Jensen… Jensen was a girl.

He decided not to jump to conclusions. They could be just friends. Friends are nice. Yep, friends would be wonderful.

The girl, Jensen stood up leaving the table and stopped by Alfred. She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. She smiled as she walked away. Alfred was blushing, a bashful smile spreading across his face.

And in that moment his heart broke.

**Okay, that was long. I'm proud! I've never written a chapter this long before! So here are the very important head canons for this story:**

**1. England is gay: Himaruya Hidekazu did confirm this on his blog and did also say that England did like America but America was too oblivious to notice. Head canon is that America finds out that England's gay and confronts him about it. England blows up and in the process admits his love for America. After this revelation America show that he returns the feelings.**

**2. France at one point like England: At one point at time France had a rather one-sided love for England but that's gone away over time.**

**I'll also try to make updates weekly if I can but if I can't you should expect and update bi-weekly or every other week. R&R!**

_Translations:_

_Angleterre- England_

_Danke- Thank you_

_Que voulez-vous dire? - What do you mean?_

_Oui-Yes_

_Hier ist Ihr Tee- Here's you tea._


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Here's another chapter for all my lovelies. Enjoy this chapter and don't forget to review!**

Chapter 3

_"Face to face and heart to heart. We're so close yet so far apart."_

_~Glee Cast, "Pretending"_

Canada saw England's face fall at the sight of Alfred. Why was he so sad? He had been in love with America and this was America. He knew it. Everyone had known it. Flirting with America even as a joke was an unspoken rule unless you wanted your ass kicked (and cursed) by England.

Canada had always loved America even as obnoxious and loud as he was. He always so happy with England and if he was happy he would support him. But if England ever broke his brother's heart he would have busted his head in with a hockey stick.

He never thought England would be the one with a broken heart.

He stared onward at Alfred who was sitting at a café table talking with… a girl. He sat rather relaxed listening to her smiling. The girl blushed under his gave has she said something in reply to him. A smile grew on her face as Alfred spoke his head nodding. She smiled and said something to him. She stood up and stopped by Alfred leaning down beside him.

And, she kissed him.

She kissed him, oh god, she kissed him on the cheek. But sure it was just a peck on the cheek but it was still a kiss. And it wasn't like Alfred was complaining rather he was blushing.

The girl walked away leaving Alfred alone.

Canada and France exchanged looks. No wonder England was so adamant that he not come. Maybe he knew something like this might happen. Maybe he figured that Alfred really just was another human who just was unfortunately looked like America.

"_Mathieu, mon cher _we're here," France said gently.

"_Merci_, Papa," he responded. It was almost an automatic thing to call France 'papa'. He rarely did in public but always around England and America.

Alfred had spotted them and waved in their direction.

Canada looked at England at his right. He was quiet and studying his jacket sleeves was a sudden interest and vigor.

"Hey guys! Didn't expect to see you all here so soon," Alfred said as he offered them seats.

"We broke for lunch early," Canada explained, a blatant lie. "After you came to our meeting it was clear we weren't going to accomplish anything. So, we took a lunch break in order to compose ourselves."

They always had lunch at this time between France and England arguing, Switzerland threatening to shoot most everyone, Prussia harassing Austria causing Hungary to smack the albino with a frying pan, and America… they never got anything done at this time.

Alfred laughed uneasily and blushed, something Canada knew his brother didn't do very often.

"Sorry about that," he apologized.

"There is no need for that," France said. "I for one am more interested in hearing about you."

He looked over at England. Normally, England would have gotten on to France for trying to be seductive. Expect England didn't seem to notice.

He frowned at this. England almost never missed a moment to get onto France.

"Well I became a journalist a few years back. I did stories in a local newspaper in New York," Alfred said becoming thoughtful. "That's when I met Jensen. I was assigned to work with her for a local charity gala. At first I hated working with her. She had her photographer had something against me."

He laughed to himself in an odd fashion of nostalgia.

"It wasn't until we'd finished working together that I found that I loved working with her. She made things hard for me. Wouldn't let me get away with anything. I guess that's why we work so well together."

"No family?" France asked a brow raise in question.

"Yeah, I have an adoptive mom in New York I call her when I can," he replied.

So he was adopted. Maybe this meant he wasn't just some human.

"I have a cat too," Alfred added as an afterthought. "He's name's Iggy. Small little tabby cat. Loves making my life hard. He lives with my mom."

Iggy. So he did recall something.

Canada felt England tense beside him. England's emerald green eyes darted upward to Alfred's face. His hand tightened on the chair armrest.

"We quit the local newspaper and decide to be freelancers. I thought it would be a good opportunity to travel the world. Jensen thought it our careers on an international level."

"And _I_ was right," a girl said as she came up beside Alfred taking her seat. "That move _totally_ helped our careers."

"So you are the fabled Jensen we've heard so much about," France said flirtatiously. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Francis Bonnefoy."

"Jensen Sullivan and I'm not interested. I've got a boyfriend," she replied cheekily giving a quick glance at Alfred. "I don't think I've met your friends either."

"I'm Matthew Williams, representative of Canada," he said offering his hand.

She took it and shook it firmly. She clearly was a seasoned professional despite her age.

She gave a gentle coaxing look at England who looked like all he wanted to do was disappear into a corner.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland, representative of the United Kingdom," he said his voice hoarse.

"You're from the UK?" Alfred asked smiling, a light in his blue eyes.

Arthur nodded, and from what Canada could tell, rather hesitantly.

"Dude, your country's amazing!" he exclaimed. "It's one of the top ten best places Jensen and I have been to."

"_So far_," Jensen added. "But yeah, it's pretty amazing."

"I'm glad you enjoyed," Arthur said slowly pronouncing each word slowly.

"Wow, are you always this articulate?" Alfred asked a cheeky grin on his face.

Canada observed England as seemed lighten at the sight of Amer-, no Alfred's cheeky face. It was eerily familiar to America's face. The dimples. The way his eyes lit up. Everything was the same down to the last blemish. It was almost as if he had never died.

Almost.

* * *

><p>England felt a tugging, relentless sadness the more he saw Alfred.<p>

It wasn't he's first instinct. He wanted nothing more but to hate Alfred for what he was a painful memory, a shadow of the past.

But he couldn't even as the American plastered his cheeky smile so much America's.

He couldn't find it in him to despise him precisely because of everything he was. That smile. That overly obnoxious laugh.

"No," he replied to Alfred's question. "It's just I'm having a hard time finding the right words."

"I feel you," Jensen sympathized. "Sometimes you know exactly what you want to say but have no idea how to say it. It's like me when I'm writing."

Jensen was an enigma to him. She came off as a young girl with a professional air about her. But he also got the sense that she had quite a few things in common with Hungary when it came to being treated like glass.

"Yeah, but you always manage to pull it off and create something amazing," Alfred said, and then tilted his head down giving the girl a quick peck on the check.

He could feel the eyes of Canada and France on him as he watched the couple's exchanged. He tried to not let it bother him. But, he felt something in him he had felt in a while.

Jealousy.

That emotion in itself was unreasonable and unacceptable to be feeling. He had no reason to be jealous of Jensen. Alfred wasn't even America, right?

Yes, he reassured himself.

There's nothing to worry about.

**AN: I'm so sorry about the wait! I've gotten caught up in school, volleyball practices, homework, drama, and concert auditions. But on the plus side, Christmas break is coming up soon so I'm going to be able to write and post more.**

**Please feel free to point out any grammatical errors (If you're that type of person.) I made because I'm in a rush to finish so I haven't looked over. And if anyone's interested in be my beta PM me.**

**Adieu!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Um yeah, no :)**

Chapter 4

_"Who are you now? Are you someone better for my love?"_

_~ Funny Girl, "Who Are You Now?"_

Jensen wasn't happy.

It was odd. She had every reason to be happy. Alfred was finally finding his feet within the international community. They had any run in with the authorities yet and things were going smoothly. But something didn't feel right.

She felt jealous.

The British representative had unwittingly captured her partner, her boyfriend's attention. Alfred had been so interested in Arthur that he had practically begged to exchange contact information. And that seemed to be the last straw for her.

She had hastily pulled him away from Arthur, Francis, and Matthew which she now felt guilty about now that she was dealing with a silently fuming Alfred on the walk back to the hotel.

"What was that about?" he snapped. "You told me you wanted to meet with a representative. We met. We got contact information for more info. I don't get why you were so ready to leave."

_It was because I was jealous, you idiot,_ she thought silently as she pushed up her black Raybans.

"I had some important business to attend to back at the hotel," she replied, not a total lie. "I've got a Skype date with a friend of mine in New York."

"But isn't it going to be like six in the morning in New York?" Alfred asked all his confusion and anger gone.

"Yeah, but he doesn't mind."

She had caught his attention when she hinted at her correspondent's gender.

"_He_?"

"It's a guy from the Times," she explained. "He wanted to ask me something about my latest story."

He nodded in understanding.

Alfred was one of the few people who understood her odd obsession with the New York Times. She had dreamt of working there ever since she was in middle school and joined her school's paper. And everything she had done since then had been to help her career in hopes that maybe someday she'd end up where she wanted.

"Okay then, Witch Girl, let's get our butts in the hotel," Alfred said laughing as they stood in front on the Hotel Torbraeu.

"I thought you said you wouldn't bring that up!" she exclaimed still laughing slapping him playfully on his shoulder.

He just laughed in response as he laced his fingers around hers. He marched with her in hand to the hotel lobby.

Jensen was still smiling as she marched through the hotel lobby as Alfred was still talking.

She wasn't really listening to what he was saying, just watching his lips move. She loved the way it curved upward when he gave a shy, unsure smile. Sighed every time he said her name. Died every time his bottom lip wobbled ever so slightly when he was near tears. And more than anything, she loved the way they felt on her lips.

So out of instinct stood on her tip toes and planted a kiss on his lips.

She could feel the eyes of onlookers obviously not happy about their little display of affection. But she couldn't care.

Alfred was stiff at first, still recovering from the shock of a kiss out of nowhere. But, slowly he succumbed to it and relaxed. He wrapped his arm around her neck and dipped her down a bit.

After a while Alfred pulled back breathing heavily muttering an apology.

She just smiled because in that moment she had forgotten about Arthur Kirkland and everything was right in the world.

* * *

><p>England headed back to the World Meeting rather reluctantly. He had actually enjoyed seeing Alfred.<p>

Alfred was so much like America. He had the same smile if not a bit more contained. His voice was still the same but was, uncharacteristically quieter.

But at the same time, he was so different. He lacked the confidant swagger that America had worn openly in life. He lacked the same childish outlook on the world that he had so loved about America. Alfred showed his intellect openly.

"So, _Angleterre_ what do think of our new American friends?" France asked.

England looked down at the piece of paper with Alfred's phone number and email written in Alfred sloppy, rushed handwriting.

_Alfred F. Jones_

_404-753-2986_

_Hotel Torbraeu Room 13c_

"I for one like Alfred and Jensen," Canada stated as the trio marched back to the meeting room. "What about you Arthur?"

"Umm… Jensen seemed like a very nice, professional who has a bright future in her chosen field," he replied calculatedly as he took his seat.

"What about Alfred?" France asked.

He had mixed feelings about Alfred. He both made him sick and filled with an overwhelming happiness he hadn't felt in a long while.

"He's different," he replied after much deliberation.

France exchanged a devious smile with him, as the Frenchman disappeared with Spain and Prussia forming the so called "Bad Touch Trio".

"Well it's nice you're giving Alfred a chance," Canada said brightly.

The Canadian had seemed lighter ever since seeing Alfred in his natural habitat. Maybe it gave the blonde a sense of closure. Maybe it pleased him to know that his brother was somewhere safer with someone wasn't going to leave anytime soon.

Other nations were still chatting. They were Germany and Italy to return to start the meeting which was understandable. No one really wanted to take charge of meet and no one was going to start now.

"I think we should leave Alfred alone," he blurted all of a sudden.

"What?" Canada asked incredulously.

"We should leave Alfred alone. He's happy. He obviously loves Jensen. He doesn't deserve to lose that perfect life.

* * *

><p>Jensen fidgeted in her seat.<p>

Alfred had left the room a few minutes earlier after convincing him that she needed to do the Skype call alone. And with him gone it left her to wait for the call alone.

She stared at her laptop blankly as she waited for to ring to announce the incoming call.

Alfred didn't know what she was doing, not really anyway. All he knew was that she going to talk to some guy with Times.

And that's all he needed to know.

The laptop began to ring. The caller ID read, Patrick Stafford.

She dragged her cursor over the respond button and clicked it.

"Ms. Sullivan, thank you for agreeing to speak with me," the man said. "We knew you wouldn't pass up an opportunity like this. Does your partner, Mr. Jones, know you're speaking with me?"

"No not exactly, sir," she replied biting her lip guiltily.

"Good," Stafford replied, much to her surprise. "Mr. Jones doesn't need to know anything yet."

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the crappy ending but I wasn't sure how to end it. Anyways, no excuse. And I tried to create a fake email for Alfred but Fanfiction was being a b**** and wouldn't let me. So sorry about that<strong>

**Hope you enjoyed! And don't be afraid to drop a review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia of any other recognizable people, products, ideas, etc. mentioned in this story.**

Chapter 5

_"Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies."_

_~Aristotle_

Japan, though he would never admit it aloud, was intrigued by Alfred F. Jones.

Sure, the man shared the same name of America-san and granted he did bare quiet the resemblance to him too. But there was something different about Alfred. He was quieter than America was and lacked the same cocky confidence.

_But what if he is?_

He had to admit that thought had crossed his mind more than once during the meeting. And to be quiet honest, he was sure that other nations had thought the same thing. So much that, Germany called for an hour and a half lunch break.

And now after an extended break, many nations were still speaking about Alfred.

"Ve-, Japan what do think of Alfred?" Italy asked him innocently.

"Um… well he does look a lot like America-san," he replied sounding quiet hesitant.

Japan's eyes drifted to England. The Brit was speaking with France and Canada. He seemed edgy and jittery. His green eyes were trained on the floor and he was wrestling with his hands. And, beside him there was a note.

"But Japan," Italy sang, "do you think that Alfred's America?"

He chewed the inside of his cheek. He wasn't exactly sure about Alfred. Sure, he bore a quiet resemblance to America but one couldn't be so sure.

"I don't know," he replied. He looked over at England. And, he was curious about the Brit's thoughts about this. "I am going to leave. I'm going to talk to England."

He left his seat and traveled over to England.

"Mr. England," he asked. "What do you think of Alfred-san?"

The Brit remained silent, contemplating something.

"You used the honorific "san". Is it merely out of respect for him or the man he looks like?" England questioned.

He had used "san"? He hadn't even noticed that he had used that. Maybe he could excuse it as a slip of the tongue? Or maybe as an automatic reflex?

"_Gomen'nasai,_ England-san I didn't notice," he attempted to brush off England's question.

So, what if he believed that Alfred and America was the same person? It didn't matter. It was just a feeling.

_Or was it?_

He shook his head slightly as if it would help remove some of his doubts.

"Well, whether you noticed it or not, you did," England stated in a matter of fact tone. "And I'm pretty sure it wasn't an accident."

He sighed. England just wouldn't let go, would he? He was so adamant on knowing his opinion. He was so adamant on opening Japan's old wounds.

He and America had been close friends, despite how overbearing and loud the American could be. America reminded him that the world was changing. And that in order to survive he had to be open to Western ideas.

America had made that whole process a bit better, albeit adding more trouble to the process than needed. But it was craziness that made the whole process more fun, not that he would say it aloud.

"Look, England, I want to believe that Alfred is America," he said slowly to England. "But I don't know."

England nodded curtly, accepting his answer. He back over to France and Canada approaching the two in conversation.

Japan sighed and gravitated back to his traditional seat and sat down. He sank down in his seat and closed his eyes. He couldn't put up with England's questions right now. It was just too confusing at the moment.

He bit his lip as a thought raced through his mind.

_Maybe if I spoke with Alfred, I could learn more._

So, he pulled out his cell phone and texted, France, who, he knew, would be willing to help him.

**_France-san, I need your help._**

He sent his text and waited anxiously for a response. He hoped that it come off as strange that he was texting France because in truth he seldom did.

As if reading his mind, his phone vibrated in pocket. He checked the lock screen to see the response to his text.

**_Oui, Japan. Why do require from the tres bein?_**

He unlocked the screen and began to type the reply.

**_Hai, I was wondering if you knew some way I could contact Alfred._**

He sent the message and watched France from further down the table. He watched as the Frenchman checked his phone and smiled deviously. The Frenchman began typing the reply.

His phone vibrated as he received a reply.

**_But, of course mon cher ;) I'll get what you need._**

He watched as France encircled the Briton and his whispered something in his ear. It was obviously something rather inappropriate because the Briton began fuming.

"You bloody, cheeky, monkey face!" he shouted angrily.

As England fumed, France grabbed a piece of paper from England's stack of notes.

"_Merci, Angleterre_," the Frenchman said cheekily to England.

"What do you mean frog?" England demanded incredulously. His face was bright red now. And, Japan could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Japan's phone vibrated as the incoming text was received. He checked his lock screen.

**_Here you go mon cher: Alfred F. Jones, 404-753-2986, Hotel Torbraeu Room 13c. _**

He looked up over at France further down the table. France smiled knowingly and mouthed something to Japan.

_"You're welcome."_

**_Arigatō._**

Japan chewed his inner cheek contemplating what to do with this valuable information. It would be useless to do nothing with this information that France incurred England's wrath for. Calling Alfred would be awkward since he currently didn't know who he was. Maybe meeting him face to face would be better?

_"Meeting Alfred-san would be better," he decided._

XXXoooXXX

Alfred was exploring the Hotel Torbraeu.

Jensen was using the hotel for a Skype conversation with a guy from the Times and needed to be alone. She kept assuring him that she would be fine by herself.

He was bored and didn't want to just hang around outside the room. He was pretty sure he'd earn some crazy stares from other hotel residents.

So he decided to look around. He heard from Francis that some representatives were staying there during the duration of the United Nations meeting. Maybe he would run into a representative. Whether or not he did it didn't matter.

He had discovered the upscale dining room which he kept out of due to the fact that he was undressed and had no appetite. He also found out that the Hotel Torbraeu was the oldest hotel in Munich and had history dating back to 1490.

But he had nowhere to go in the hotel that he hadn't seen or been to yet.

_'I could hang out in the lobby,' he thought to himself. 'I could work on editing the photos I got from that huge anime and manga convention in Japan. Jensen seemed pretty interested in what I was doing there and why I wanted to go alone.'_

So he took a seat in an armchair pulled out his laptop. He fired it up as he pulled out a pair of headphones and plugged it into the laptop's side.

He looked through his files and found his writing playlist which basically served as his life's soundtrack and began playing it. He closed his eyes and eased himself into his chair and just listened for a while. It was nice a calming change from the chaos of the outside world.

He sighed as began to look for his photos from Japan. He was quiet embarrassed by them actually. He was supposed to be in Japan for a political piece requested by a newspaper in New York. But he had come during a manga convention and couldn't help but snap a few photos. He had always been a closet Naruto and Black Butler fan and he just couldn't pass up an opportunity like that.

He viewed the various pictures of various cosplayers in many different pose and expressions. He had to admire the skill and dedication that those fans had.

He cropped and changed photo filters as the music in his headphones changed from calm and tranquil to loud and rambunctious. It was unexpected, kind of how short that girl's skirt in the photo was.

He internally groaned as he had to crop out the unsuspecting, short skirted girl.

"Great," he muttered to himself.

Just then, a young Asian man, most likely Japanese, walked up to him and waved his hands slightly.

_'Must want to talk to me,' he thought._

He paused his music, removed his headphones, and looked up to observe the man. The man had dark hair cut in bowl shape fashion. He was wearing a clean, pressed business suit and was carrying a briefcase. His face had an expression of disbelief, shock, and joy, maybe?

"Uh… sir, you wanted to talk to me?" Alfred said hesitantly.

The man seemed taken aback when called sir. Alfred wasn't sure why. He was sure someone in a high ranking diplomatic position would be unaccustomed to being called a sir.

"Oh, yes," the man said. "I'm Honda Kiku. I know you've spoken to several of my colleagues Mr. Kirkland, Mr. Bonnefoy, and Mr. Williams."

"You know them?" he said smiled. "That's cool. But I still don't know what this has to do with me."

The man bristled at the question.

"Um… I was curious to hear more about your work," he stammered.

He smiled slightly at the man's comment. Sure, he wasn't as sharing about his work as Jensen was but he was happy to share.

"Of course, Mr. Honda, I'd be happy to share," he said smiling. "Have a seat."

Kiku took a seat beside him as he closed his laptop. The Japanese man sat patiently beside him as he composed himself.

"Usually, it's my partner, Jensen, who's into answering questions about our work. But, I'll do my best to answer your questions," he confessed. "So what do you want to know?"

Kiku took a moment to think.

"Um… anything, I suppose," he replied after a few moments. "I really don't know but from what I heard from Arthur you have quiet the background."

He laughed uneasily. It wasn't that he wasn't uncomfortable around Kiku, not at all. It was more the opposite that startled him.

He was too comfortable with Kiku. He felt like they would have been friends had they known each other in New York. It was odd. He was never that relaxed around strangers.

_'Maybe he's not a stranger.'_

He shook his head and finally said, "Before I answer your question, I have a question for you. Have we met? Because, I feel like I've met you somewhere before."

Kiku's eyes widen slightly when he said this. The Japanese man began to wave his hands faintly.

"I do not believe that his possible," he said his accent muddling his L's. "I have never encountered you or your partner until now."

He laughed, "Sorry, I just felt like we met before. Anyways, about my writing…."

He answered question after question, some personal others not. But he still couldn't shake the feeling recognition that came from Kiku Honda.

XXXoooXXX

England had walked back to the Hotel Torbraeu late. He had stayed behind awhile after the meeting to talk to Canada and France away from the prying ears of other nations.

"Thank goodness, nobody asked any questions about Alfred," he mumbled to himself as he entered the lobby.

As much as loved his home, he had to admit that the Hotel Torbraeu was one of his favorite hotels in Germany. The grandeur of lobby never ceased to amaze him. The beautiful light of the chandelier refracting from the crystals shone out across the room. The orderly manner the staff conducted themselves.

It best represented Germany at its finest.

As beautiful the lobby was, he was eager to get to his room. He wanted to call Alfred more than he cared to admit.

Was it wrong to want to call him? Was it wrong to even speak to him after telling France and Canada that they should leave Alfred alone?

He shook his head as he walked to the elevator. He didn't need to think about right or wrong right now. Not every decision in life was right or wrong. Sometimes people did bad things for good reason. And sometimes people did good things for bad reasons.

_'God, life was confusing,' he inwardly groaned._

But while passing the sitting area in the lobby, he saw two very familiar faces. Kiku was sitting on an armchair with a laptop propped on his lap. Beside him sat a blonde haired man with sky blue eyes. It was Alfred.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. "Is that? That can't be."

But it was Alfred. There was no denying it, the blonde hair, sky blue eyes, and wire glasses were a dead giveaway. It was obvious.

It was Alfred with Kiku. Something he would have never expected.

_'How did Kiku know Alfred was going to be here?' he wondered._ _'Hell, Kiku you're opening a huge can of worms.'_

He spotted Germany and Italy over near the elevator looking over at Alfred and Japan. Prussia and Spain were just entering the lobby with France tailing behind him. All three were laughing rambunctiously. Austria and Hungary were chatting with the receptionist at the front desk. Austria didn't seem to notice Alfred and Japan, but Hungary seemed to be paying close attention. China was warding off South Korea

Kiku and Alfred were talking animatedly both oblivious to the stare of other nations. Alfred was smiling widely and his hands were waving animatedly. Kiku was nodding a small smile grew on his face.

They were so screwed.

**AN: Happy New Year! It's not quite 2015 here on the east coast of the U.S. but in eight hours it will be. So I hope everyone had a great 2014 and has an even better 2015! I mean 2014 was huge for me! It was when I started writing on Fanfiction so it's been great all thanks to you guys!**

**Thanks!**

**R&R!**


	6. Author's Note

**Okay guys, I know this isn't a chapter but I'm not sure what to write though. **

***Hides behind laptop***

**Please don't hate me because I'm not sure of how this story should end. I'm not sure how the story should eat. It's easier for me to write when I know what the endgame is. **

**Like, for those who noticed the couple pairing on the summary has been changed to include an OC. I don't know who Alfred should end up with; England or Jensen.**

**I've got two ending for both but I want your input. **

**So on my profile I have a poll on which pairing you want. So, don't be shy and visit my profile and vote. If you don't and you don't like how this story(will) end, you cannot complain!**

**VOTE PEOPLE VOTE!**

**(Oh, a new chapter will be voted soon, but school guys... SSSSCCCHHHHOOOOLLLL)**


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. It would be really nice to own it though.**

Chapter 5

_"Love's what we'll remember."_

_~What I Did For Love, A Chorus Line_

Jensen fidgeted in her seat as Mr. Stafford reviewed several pieces of paper in front her. She knew these were papers from a World Climate Summit that had happened a couple months ago in Lima, Peru. She had been so proud of those papers and even more than usual when they made the cover of a highly respective French newspaper. Granted the fact that she had to translate the French back to English was tedious, it was well worth it.

"Ms. Sullivan, I speak on behalf of everyone at the New York Times when I say this. That paper was an extraordinary piece of journalism and the fact that you took the time to translate it from English to French and back again show true dedication," Stafford said.

She felt the heat rush to her face as she brushed back a lock of her auburn hair.

"Thank you, Mr. Stafford," she said in reply. "Hearing that from you is a great honor."

The man on screen nodded.

"That being said," Mr. Stafford said. "I know several people in the International News department who would like to meet you."

"Really?" she asked sounding rather awestruck.

"Yes. They would like to meet you next week in Paris," he told her. "That is if you don't mind."

She shook her head quickly, a smile growing on her face.

"I don't mind. Not at all," she replied still shaking her head. "I'll just convince my partner that I have some business in Paris. He won't mind."

Stafford seemed slightly troubled after hearing Alfred mentioned. She had no idea. He hadn't mentioned having anything against Alfred.

"Ms. Sullivan, speaking of Mr. Jones," he said to her. "If you are serious about getting the job, you'll have to work by yourself. Mr. Jones is talented; I'll give him that, but Ms. Sullivan we are only interested in you."

"Oh, of course," she said nodding absently. "But you see Mr. Stafford, Alfred and I don't just have a professional relationship anymore. You see, over the last couple of months we…"

She trailed off as Stafford held up a hand cutting her short.

"I understand, Ms. Sullivan," he stated firmly. "But if you want this job, you have to decide which you want more; Mr. Jones or this job. Do you understand?"

She pursed her lips and took a deep breathing, nodding.

"Yes, sir," she whispered.

"Good," he said simply. "Anyways, I have to go. I have a meeting in a few minutes. It was good talking to you Ms. Sullivan. I hope to hear from you soon."

"Goodbye, sir."

She signed out of the conversation and shut her laptop.

She sighed to herself. Mr. Stafford was asking her to do something impossible, choose between Alfred and her dream job. She had expected to apply for the times months before falling in Alfred, and quiet honestly she hadn't expected for their love to evolve much.

But now she had choice before her. And she was utterly screwed.

XXXoooXXXX

England swooped in on the unsuspecting pair. He put an arm around Kiku as he took the chair beside the, now stiff, Japanese man.

"Arthur-san, I didn't see you there," Kiku said to him while he removed England arm.

_"What are doing here?"_

"Ah, well Kiku you forgot these papers," he replied brandishing a small stack of papers.

The Japanese man blushed and mumbled a thank you.

England pretended not to notice Alfred sitting to right of Kiku. He was hoping to down play his recognition of Alfred. But, every fiber of him was begging to acknowledge him.

So against his will, he turned to Alfred and said in a strained voice, "Oh, hi Alfred. I didn't see you there. How are you?"

"I'm fine… um thanks," the American replied a hesitant look on his face. "Um… how are you?"

He forced a smile.

"I'm fine," he replied. "Just here to drop off some papers."

He looked over to the "Bad Touch Trio" which was now entering an elevator still in deep conversation. Italy was dragging Germany outside the door and Hungary looked as if she was doing the same to Austria. And, China and South Korea were nowhere to be found.

He let out a sigh of relief. They were in the clear.

"You sure you're okay?" Alfred asked the edgy Briton.

"I'm fine," he laughed ignoring the slightly disturbed looks from Kiku and Alfred. "Anyway, I have to go. I've got to call my boss soon or he'll have my head. Good to see you two!"

He walked away from the pair and headed to elevator. He mentally decided not to call his boss, who'd be pissed at him later. But he could deal with that later.

In the meantime he could use a cup of tea and a Doctor Who marathon to get his mind off the bloody, American wanker.

**AN: Jesus! That was awful and short, but I wanted to give a before school gift. I'm going back to school tomorrow and I really don't want to go! There's still so much to write! Anyways, here's some fluff to pass the time by.**

**That being said, updates are going to be really inconsistent from now. So please continue to support this story!**

**Thanks! **

**R&R!**


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

Chapter 7

_"When your legs don't work like they used to before  
>And I can't sweep you off of your feet<br>Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love?  
>Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?"<em>

_~ "Thinking Out Loud", Ed Sheeran_

Alfred did his best to dismiss Arthur's odd behavior but it was hard.

Arthur had been overly peppy something that, he guessed, that the Briton wasn't naturally prone to. He also sensed an overwhelming feeling of urgency and worry from the Brit. He wasn't sure if it was work getting to him or something else entirely but whatever it was it was clearly taking a toll.

Soon after, Kiku left in a hurry to catch Arthur quickly mumbling an apology then running off to the elevator.

Now, he found himself outside, again, of his hotel room. Jensen was taking forever to finish up her video chat. Not, that he was complaining. Things were just too confusing.

_'I know Kiku from somewhere else,' he thought to himself. 'There's more to him. All of them.'_

He had to admit the representatives were an odd bunch. They lack the professional and composed air that diplomats normally possessed. They were insane; yelling, fighting, and too relaxed. It was quite different from meeting other government officials. It wasn't necessarily a bad different nor was it a good different either.

He knocked on the door and shouted, "Jen! Are you done yet?"

There was no reply from behind the door. All he heard was the sound of shuffling feet and a small exclamation of pain from Jensen.

A few seconds later, Jensen had cracked open the door and was poking her head out from behind it. Her glasses were perched crookedly on her face. She was wearing a ratty old t-shirt reading "NYC Juniors Volley Club" and sweat pants. Her auburn hair was pulled up into a messy bun to right side of her head.

"May I help you?" she asked pleasantly a smile plastering her face.

"Can I come in now?" he asked evenly trying to seem light.

"Yeah," she replied as opened the door some more, letting Alfred in. "Why didn't you come up sooner. I finished ages ago. Didn't you get my texts?"

_'She texted me?' he wondered._

He pulled out his phone and peered at the lock screen. There were several messages from Jensen, several of which telling him that he could return to the hotel room.

"I silenced my phone," he muttered sheepishly.

The girl rolled her eyes in reply.

"Well, that doesn't matter now," she said as she retreated back to her bed where her laptop was still opened and running. "What were you up to?"

"Nothing much," he replied shrugging his shoulders. "I was just speaking to the Japanese UN representative."

Jensen seemed to perk up slightly at the mention of the UN. She looked up from her laptop as if asking for further elaboration.

"Umm… what's up with your clothes," he said trying to change the subject.

"It's leisure," she explained, "but stop trying to change the subject." She made a small gesture with her hand for him to continue. "Keep talking."

Alfred walked over to their "living room". He plopped on the couch and sighed, pulling out his phone. He peered down at its dark screen.

In that phone held the one way to contact Kiku Honda. The two had exchanged numbers before the Japanese man had to leave.

_'Would it be wrong to call him?' he wondered._

"Well, Mr. Honda ran into me in the lobby," he said as he toyed with his phone. "He seemed pretty interested in our work. And, I showed him some pictures from when I was in Japan."

Jensen walked over and plopped on the couch beside him. She leaned against his shoulder and as she did this he could smell her hair. Her hair always smelled of roses no matter where they went or whatever condition she was in.

"That's nice," she murmered. She then got off his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "Alfred, I need to go to Paris next week. There's a correspondent that I need to meet there."

"That's cool," Alfred said. "Do you want me to come with?"

The girl got up from the couch abruptly, her face sheet white.

"No, really it's fine," she said hurriedly. "It's only going to be a day or two. Besides I'm going to need someone to stay here, in Munich, to finish the story."

His brows furrowed in suspicion. Normally, he did care that Jensen had to go somewhere on her own. He did that a bunch. But, what he found strange was that she was so insistent that she wanted to go alone.

"You sure?" he asked. "Who knows? I might be able to help."

Jensen waved her hands frantically dismissing his message.

"No. You stay and enjoy the city. Didn't one of the representatives, Mathew Williams, Francis Bonnefoy, or Arthur Kirkland offer to show you 'round the city?" she migrated back to her bed and was back to typing on her laptop. "Have fun. Besides it's Germany and god knows it'll be a good way for you to relax."

"But Jen-"

"No," she said firmly. "You're staying. Go to the pub or whatever they call it. Get drunk. I don't care. You. Are. Staying."

She put a hand on him and he could feel heat rushing to his face. He loved the way that she held her ground. He admired her fierce determination.

"Fine," he finally caved. "I'll stay. I'll get drunk. I'll see the city."

"Thank you," she sighed clearly relieved.

He got off the couch and walked over to her bed, plopping himself on it. He tilted his head down slightly and kissed her on cheek.

_'God, I love you,' he repeated in his mind. 'I love you so much.'_

XXXoooXXX

Kiku ran down the hallway in hopes of catching up to England.

"England-san, **Gomen'nasai**!" he called. "Please wait!"

To his delight, England slowed down and eventually. The Briton also turned around, warily looking at him.

"What do you want, Japan?" England asked.

"**Gomen'nasai**. I just wanted to know if you were okay," Kiku said evenly to him. "You seemed troubled when you were speaking to Alfred-san earlier."

The Briton scowled in clear displeasure.

"Nothing is wrong, Kiku," he said. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Kiku being the master of sensing the mood could read the unspoken message from the Brit.

_"I don't want to tell you. Besides even if there was something going on, I wouldn't tell you."_

He decided not to press England for information. He knew that America was a touchy subject for him and that he'd tell him when he wanted to.

"My apologizes, Mr. England," he said softly. "I miss spoke."

England seemed to melt before him. He could see the obvious fatigue in England's eyes and feel the evident distraught radiating off him.

"No," England sighed. "Japan. You're fine. I'm just stressed. There's been a lot going on and I haven't had a ton of time to let it all sink in."

He gave the Briton a small, supportive smile. England's situation was a demanding one, but Japan was willing to help. He wanted to give Alfred and England their happy, anime comedy, ending.

"You did nothing wrong, England-san," he said. "I understand."

England gave him an uneasy smile. It was good to see England smile. His features seemed softer and cheerier than they did when he scowled.

"Japan, I don't mean to intrude," England said cautiously. "But what were you and Alfred talking about?"

Heat rushed to his face at the mention of his conversation with Alfred.

"**Hai**, Alfred and I were talking about his trip to Japan," he explained quickly trying to hide his growing blush.

England nodded uncertainly giving him an estranged look.

Japan could understand the strange reaction. He knew that while he was speaking to Alfred it was blatantly obvious that they _weren't_ discussing his trip. Or, at least the business related part of their trip.

"Um… Japan," England looked down at his watch. "I've got to go. My boss is expecting a phone call soon."

"Of, course," he nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. England."

"Bye, Japan."

XXXoooXXX

Hungary was official enthralled.

Sure, she hadn't believed at first that Alfred and America were the same people. But, after seeing him talking with Kiku she believed.

"Austria," she said to aristocrat who was locked arm in arm with her walking around Munich, "aren't the least bit interested in England's new American friends?"

The Austrian, who had made it expressly clear that he wasn't interested in Alfred Jones or England at the moment, frowned.

"Elizaveta, I've said before I'm not interested," Austria sighed removing his arm from Hungary.

She grimaced slightly at Roderich's dismissive attitude. Sure, she loved him regardless of all his faults. But, sometimes it was hard.

"It's just… I want to learn more about Alfred and…." She trailed off. She really didn't care much for the American's writing partner. She was truly more concerned about giving Alfred a happy ending with a certain Briton.

"Ms. Sullivan," Austria finished for her, rather dryly.

She nodded, and then turned to face the Austrian.

"I was actually wondering if we could invite them to Germany's surprise party," she said trying to turn on the charm that always made Austria cave to her whims.

"But, Eliza, darling, Germany doesn't know them," Austria argued. "Besides, they're human."

She pouted playfully and nudged Austria gently.

"It would give Ludwig a great opportunity to get to know them," she countered. "And they wouldn't be the only humans there."

She studied the Austrian.

He didn't seem quite sure about his decision. His glasses had slid down his nose slightly due his brows furrowing. His violet eyes seemed to be in deep contemplation about it.

_'Time to reel him in,' she thought eagerly._

"Please," she cooed.

The Austrian ran his hands through his hair causing his cowlick to bounce slightly. She bit back her small sense of excitement at the sight. It always made her smile seeing him flustered and on his toes.

"Fine."

_'Hook. Line, and sink.'_

"Thank you, Roderich," she said then planted a kiss on his cheek causing the Austrian to blush

"I hope I don't regret agreeing to this," he mumbled as he brushed some of his chocolate brown hair out of his face.

"You won't darling," she assured him.

But at the same time, a seed of doubt was planted in the back of her mind. What if something went wrong? What if England, Canada, or France takes this the wrong way? What if Alfred said no?

_'I hope.'_

XXXoooXXX

**AN: God, I'm so sorry! I have been so busy this week with drama practice, student council, volleyball, and band. But thankfully, next week my schedule should be calmer so, hopefully I can update this and Innocent Until Proven Guilty some more.**

**I'm going to leave the poll on the endgame pairing on my profile for one more week. So, vote, vote, vote!**

**Oh, and that small scene with England and Japan could be considered AsaKiku, depending on how you look at it :) **

**Thanks!**

**R&R**


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